


Like a record groove

by Shaish



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Lazy morning makeouts, M/M, Older Bucky, and hints of other things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-19 20:31:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20215858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shaish/pseuds/Shaish
Summary: I don't remember when I wrote this, but apparently at some point I wanted to write an age gap with older Bucky? ??? I won't say no to that.





	Like a record groove

**Author's Note:**

> I don't remember when I wrote this, but apparently at some point I wanted to write an age gap with older Bucky? ??? I won't say no to that.

Steve yawns and shifts, rolling over into a firm chest, curls up a little more when smooth, body warmed metal wraps around his shoulders. He can feel every plate against the skin of his back, every notch where one ends and another begins, even some of the scratches and knicks. Warm lips press to his forehead with the gentle scratch scruff and he can’t help his own lips curling up. Steve cracks his eyes open and tilts his head to look.

He’s not sure he’s used to it yet, the way the crows feet fan out at the end corners of Bucky’s eyes, the slashed dusting of gray in his scruff, well on its way to becoming a beard at this point, the few light streaks of it in his long hair. The way Bucky looks rougher around the edges, worn in ways Steve has never seen him before. He’s older, Steve knows, from reading the Winter Soldier file, but reading it on paper and seeing it with his own eyes are two completely different things. Bucky’s eyes are still the same shade of slate blue, his hair is still the same dark, reflective brown, his lips still curve up into a small, knowing smile because Bucky’s always had his number, still does, after all.

Ten years. He’s almost forty now while Steve’s just turned thirty.

A rough finger pad draws light down the side of his cheek and Steve tilts his head into the touch, watches the way Bucky’s lips curve up just a tiny bit more like he’s pleased, happy, and doesn’t say a word.

That’s another thing that’s different. Bucky’s quieter, slower, not like he’s rusting but like he’s prowling, waiting out his prey. It’s different from his sniper stillness, more infinite, somehow. Steve hasn’t told him how it sends a small shiver up his spine every time he watches Bucky watching him as he walks towards him, stirs arousal below his jeans and makes his throat go dry. Bucky doesn’t always smirk, but he does always get this look in his eye like he knows, because he’s always had Steve’s number, even when things are new yet old, different now.

Steve leans up the six inches he needs to press his lips to Bucky’s, kisses love into the seam of his mouth until Bucky’s lips part and their tongues slide, warm and wet. Arousal stirs below his gut and he doesn’t stop the breathy moan from passing into Bucky’s mouth at the feel of Bucky’s callused palm sliding down the length of his spine. He sucks in a breath through his nose when it grips his ass cheek and spreads his legs, hooks one over Bucky’s and takes a moment to feel the scars pressed to his skin. He’s kissed them all by now, but every time he feels them, sees them, he wants to do it all over again. Bucky lets him, more often than not, but right now Bucky’s kissing him slow and dirty and dipping two fingers between his cheeks, and Steve wants him to have it, moans and groans for him in the filthiest ways he can imagine. He can feel Bucky’s cock growing hard and thick against his hip, so it must be working.

They toil the morning away like that, with increased breathes and shattered moans, groans hidden in each other’s mouths and sweat slick skin pressed to blue sheets, and Steve can’t imagine a better way to spend it.


End file.
